


Desire

by bedb



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, Old Gods, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedb/pseuds/bedb
Summary: The Red Spear wants to hate the Monk, but sometimes that's not possible.
Relationships: Red Spear | Guinevere/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed)
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be one chapter with some erotica to entertain myself. And it's gotten out of hand.
> 
> Gwynn ap Nudd and Domnu are real deities.
> 
> If I get around to writing actual porn, I'll change the ratings.

Those eyes, neither blue nor green, pale as washed out sea glass haunted her. It didn’t matter what she was doing on board her ship, whenever she glanced his way, he was watching her. And the iron manacles that kept imprisoned at the mast burned his wrists. Iron was poisonous to the fey. Pym and Squirrel looked after him and Arthur the Good made sure he was not being overly abused. But never did he look at them the way he looked at her.

When they put in for the night in a protected cove, everyone went ashore leaving him alone on the ship. The Red Spear would have been content leaving him chained to the mast until he died, but Arthur was too good a man to do that. He took this monster out for a short walk and saw to it that he had food and water. No words were ever exchanged between them. Only the little boy had the power to bring words out the Monk’s tight lips, and only Pym had the courage to touch his wounded flesh. Wounded saving the little boy, killing his own crimson brothers. The Red Spear was troubled by this action. Why had he spared the child?

Long after everyone had retired for the night, she boarded her ship keeping her noise to a minimum, but still he stirred and turned his head towards her. Under the three quarters moon she could see his outline as a pale glow. The hood that hid his face was lowered so the cool air could touch his skin. 

She drew her knife. Circling the mast so she could crouch down and see him, she lifted his chin with the tip of the blade knowing full well the steel would irritate his skin. “Why does iron and steel burn your skin?” she asked curiously and let her eyes travel down to the heavy manacles on his wrists. He didn’t say anything but then she really hadn’t expected an answer.

“You hunted your own people for THEM,” she accused him mercilessly. “And you one of the fae. Did they promise you riches beyond your wildest dreams? Power? Women?”

“No,” he finally answered.

“None of it?” she asked curiously.

“They offered me salvation,” he answered and swallowed hard. She admired the long curve of his throat. So very very male. 

“Do you even know what a woman feels like?” she asked. “Or do you prefer little boys in which case I will just kill you now.”

His eyes widened in horror. “I would never harm the boy, ever!” he hissed angrily. “I always spared the children.”

“So it was just their parents you murdered?”

He stopped speaking and lowered his eyes. The blade still held his chin up. The Red Spear stood up and circled the mast again but this time she grabbed a fistful of his long thick hair and jerked his head back. The blade rested on his throat.

“Do it,” he taunted her. He was tired of his existence and now only wanted it to end.

“Too easy,” the Red Spear countered. She imagined something even crueler. She bent over and kissed him, deep and hungry, the kiss of a woman who understood male bodies. She felt him melt under her, responding to a hunger he had never realized was there. They fed on each other’s kisses, lips and tongue caressing the others’. But what she didn’t count on was the mistake she had just made, the mistake of a mortal woman in the presence of a land king. If he didn’t know his own power, she did. It filled her with heat, unbearable heat and a yearning that went bone deep in her body. 

“Bastard!” she hissed and jerked away. “You try to enchant me.”

“No more than you try to enchant me,” he panted, his emotions and body in turmoil. 

She backed away from him and smiled. “If you die tomorrow, at least you can say you know the kiss of a woman.” Later lying in her bed, her body aching, the Red Spear prayed he was as sleepless as she. But there were things she could do that he could not, but whenever she tried to find a fantasy to feed her desires, it was his brooding face that she saw.

At first light they put out to sea again. She ignored the chained fey, leaving him to Arthur the Good to tend. Pym fed him and Squirrel kept his ear company. But by midday a northern storm blew in forcing them to seek shelter before they were lashed into splinters on half hidden rock. The prisoner was not left on the boat this time. He was brought to the rocky beach and left sitting above the high water mark. Pym and Squirrel stayed with him.

When the storm unleashed its fury, everyone hid beneath walrus and bear skin slickers. The Red Spear had her own make shift shelter, but she could see the trio riding out the bad weather beneath an oilskin slicker. The child cold, wet and frightened found shelter against the Monk. What would he be able to do manacled as he was? And then as if sensing her looking at him, he turned his head. He knew. It was very late when the dark clouds moved away and left cold wisps in their place. Squirrel slept warmly between the Monk and Pym. 

Daylight and the boats were in need of some minor repairs. They had weathered the storm well enough but there was cleaning to do and mending some sails. Everyone but the prisoner put his shoulder to the work at hand, while he sat there watching her every move but saying nothing. By noon they were at sea again. Disaster hit late in the day. A force more dangerous than not drove them back into the shoals and cliffs of Briton. Magic was afoot and no one understood it. Not even the Monk who did indeed sense the presence of something more powerful than he. Because even the fey have gods.  
What ill wind is this!” Arthur cried, their boats being dragged back to the land of his birth. Would there be no escape for the fey? Would he not be able to save them in Constantinople?

“This is sorcery!” The Red Spear snarled and took it to the man she believed responsible for it. Grabbing his manacled wrists, she dragged him to his feet. “What are you doing?”

“That’s not me,” the Monk replied calmly.

“Liar!” The Red Spear hissed and drew her sword to gut him.

Pym acted quickly. “It’s not him!” she exclaimed. “I would know. It’s not him.”

“Then who is it? You know,” she shot at the Monk.

“The White Son of Darkness,” the Monk answered as if the very name burned his tongue. “And I can not tell you why he has taken an interest in us.”

“Maybe just you,” she countered suspiciously. “Maybe we should throw you overboard and find out.”

“That would be one way of finding out,” he agreed without a trace of fear in his voice.

The Red Spear hesitated. He was just to willing for this to end. “Ride the winds out to sea,” she ordered sharply. “It’ll be safer there.” She stopped a second turned and grabbed his manacles. “You come with me. If we start to sink, I’m going to slit your perfect throat.” Taking command of the lead she, she fought the waves and led the small convoy out into deep water where it was safer. 

The storm raged on for hours before the winds finally tired themselves out. “Whatever is out there doesn’t want us to leave,” Arthur finally gasped with a relieved sigh.

“The White Son of Darkness,” The Red Spear answered in silent awe. “Gwynn ap Nudd, a god of the fey. He is true darkness.” Remembering her prisoner she looked around quickly but he was only a few feet back. “Now we return to land and find out why he does not want us to leave Briton.”

Everyone was exhausted by the time they found a safe harbor to drop anchor in. Most slept where they fell. No one tried to secure the prisoner. The Red Spear saw this, but she was too tired to give it a second thought.

The Monk awoke before dawn, his body aching from sleeping on the cold wet ground with his arms in chains. Squirrel was lying close to him for warmth and security. Pym was on the other side of the boy, dead to the word. Unwilling to lie there any longer, he sat up and looked around. Some of the fey were already awake with small fires going to take the chill out of their bones. Arthur stirred and sat up. He stretched and then looked straight at him. Climbing to his feet, he pulled the Monk up and said, “Come on.”

As they walked away from the beach, Arthur got closer to the Monk and asked, “Who is Gwynn ap Nudd?”

“The king of hell,” the Monk answered softly. “His hounds chase sinners and drag them to the underworld with him.”

“How do you know this?” Arthur continued.

“That will be my fate eventually,” the Monk answered wearily. “Sooner or later it does not matter.”

The Red Spear sat up and looked around. The Monk was missing but then so was Arthur. Thinking they are at their morning constitution, she went to one of the fires to see if anyone was cooking anything. Her backbone was gnawing at her belly.

Arthur returned to the gathering and joined The Red Spear at one of the fires with their prisoner. He sat down cross-legged without looking at her. Arthur though had a lot of things on his mind. “So Gwynn ap Nudd has taken an interest in us because he doesn’t want the fey leaving Briton.”

“Who told you this?” she asked and fixed her dark eyes on the silent Monk. “How so you know?” When he didn’t say anything she slapped his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Who told you this?”

He fixed those pale sea glass eyes on her and answered, “He told me in a dream. If you try to take the fey he will destroy your ships.”

Angered, the Red Spear snapped, “Why isn’t he helping them then? Why did he let you almost destroy them?”

“I did not listen,” the Monk answered with deep regret in his words. “And he has no power over the Church.”

“Damn the church! And Damn you!” she snarled and drew her dagger again. “I ought to gut you where you sit.” His heavy almost bored sigh surprised her. “You would like that wouldn’t you? No atonement for your sins, go straight to hell?” His silence further enraged her. This time she punched him in the face as hard as she could, anything to cause him pain. Arthur lunged forward to keep her from burying the blade in the Monk’s belly.

“Guinevere, stop!” Arthur pleaded. “We may still need him.” She got up and stormed off with Arthur following. The Monk sat there without moving until Squirrel joined him.   
The day was spent drying out and trying to decide where to go next if not out of Briton. “Why not ask your friend,” The Red Spear said with a nod at the Monk.

Arthur looked at the Monk. “Can you ask him what he wants?”

“He will not speak to me except in dreams,” the Monk answered with a heavy sigh. “Kill me and I will deliver it personally.” 

“That is not how I do things,” Arthur stated matter of factly before anyone else could chime in with unwanted advice. “If this fey god does not want us to leave, then we need to find some other safe place to go. We can not stay here; the church will eventually find us.”

By now a cluster of people were surrounding them, fey and human alike. “There are lands to the southwest,” one of the dark fey spoke up, his horns spiked like a young deer’s. “I heard about it when I was younger.”

“Arawn’s lands,” another intoned with awe in his voice. “Lord of the wild hunt.”

The Red Spear spoke up then, “The fey king who hunts humans? From one fire into another.”

Arthur thought of his promise to Nimue. “It’s a risk we must take.”

“It’s a stupid risk,” the Red Spear concluded and stood up. “We’ll hug the coast until we reach this safe haven.” Turning back around she gazed down at the silent monk who lifted his eyes to stare at her. “No opinions?”

“The humans who inhabit those lands keep to the old ways,” he answered quietly. “It would be a safer place for your charges.” And then there were several heartbeats where they just stared at each other. 

Arthur took notice and broke whatever spell he was witnessing when he stood up and shouted, “We ready to leave.” The Red Spear jerked back and turned away. Once out of earshot, Arthur leaned towards her and asked, “Has he bewitched you?”

“No! Of course not,” she countered angrily. 

Arthur knew Nimue would not approve of this next thought, but it had to be said, “I will kill him if I must.”

The Red Spear stopped and turned to him, “We spared him because of the boy, and kept him to help us against the Red Guards. If we kill him now….no.”

Arthur smiled. “I would have no harm come to you.” The woman returned his smile, but when he walked away to ready for the leaving, she glanced back at the Monk. Pym and the boy were worrying over his manacles, but the moment he felt her eyes on him, he gazed back at her, just a slow lift of his eyes that torched her thoughts. She broke eye contact by turning her gaze to Pym who was trying to wrap his wrists in a cloth to protect them.

“Here,” she decided. “Arthur, if he promises not to escape, let’s unmanacle him,” she suggested. “Easier to keep him out of my line of sight.”

Squirrel yelped with excitement when Arthur produced the key to free the Monk. Arthur unlocked the manacle and took it off the Monk who rubbed his burned wrists. Squirrel grabbed his hand and helped him stand. The Red Spear on board her ship barked orders at her crew and called beings aboard. “Arthur, he still rides with us.” It was insane but she could not harbor the thought of him being on one of the other ships. He was an itch under her skin that she could not scratch. 

Within the hour they were once more out to sea. The Red Spear was pleased that he had gone below with the boy. Pym on the other hand popped up with a big grin on her face and stayed at her and Arthur’s side for half the day. All during that time the winds blew in a westerly direction, soft and gentle as if driven by some divine force. Only when they stopped for the evening, did the winds cease. Game was brought in and meat was cooked. For his part the Monk brought down a fat doe with a borrowed bow. Pym and Squirrel ate well. 

Arthur joined them at their fire and accepted some meat from Squirrel. “Very good,” he told the grinning boy. After finishing off the tasty morsel, he looked at the Monk and asked, “What am I to do with you?”

“What do you want to do?” the Monk countered quietly.

“I want to trust you. Your sword would be a blessing keeping the fey safe.”

“Their blood is on my hands,” the Monk answered regretfully. “ I can never atone for that.”

“Well, as that may be, I have no desire to kill you. I want your word that you will give me no trouble from now on. And that I can count on you if danger comes.”

There was no hesitation. “You have it.”

“Good,” Arthur said and extended his hand. The Monk looked at it a moment before accepting the offer. Arthur’s smile could light up the night, but the Monk’s was shaded with sadness. Arthur rose to his feet and went to check on another group of refugees. In short order the Red Spear was at their fire accepting a portion of the meat from Squirrel. “As good as you hunt, you could keep us all well fed,” she told the silent Monk.

“I could do that,” he answered with only a slight hesitation. The moment he turned his eyes to her face, she felt as if maybe she didn’t want him hunting anything that there would be no escaping him.

That night the hounds were heard, the hounds of Gwynn ap Nudd. Mortal or fey, there was no escaping them once they got your scent. Some poor soul alone on the heath was being hunted by them now.

Arthur, the Red Spear, and the Monk stood listening to the horrid yelling of the hounds while the others stayed close to their fires and each other. They were chasing someone towards them. Then came the deadly silence, all at once. The hounds disappeared. They had their lost soul.

“We can only hope it was one of the Red Paladins,” the Red Spear remarked with a touch of fear in her voice. Arthur and the Monk gazed down at her and then at the each other. Arthur followed the Red Spear while the Monk returned to his own fire. Within minutes Squirrel was sleeping on the Monk’s cloak while Pym made her own bed beside the boy. The Monk watched over them. Finally he laid back and folded his hands over his abdomen in a light sleep.

The next day was a repeat of the previous with a gentle wind blowing them on a course of its own choosing. Arthur thought nothing of it, and the Red Spear simply accepted it, but the Monk did not believe in coincidence. Why would Gwynn ap Nudd keep doing this?

There would be no sleeping tonight.

When the Red Spear awakened, there was no sound but the gentle lapping of the water. With nature calling she got up and took a short walk away from the group. She did not notice the head that turned to watch her leave the safety of the low burning fires.

It was difficult to not enjoy the solitude of the full moon and serenity of the waters around her. A shot walk would do her good. If she heard anything off, she would hurry back to the ships. It never occurred to her that the sound would come out of the water. Jerking back around she found herself staring at a nightmare, one of the dark creatures that even the pope in Rome could not destroy. The sea dragon was silent as it crawled up on shore and made its way towards her. 

“I’ll make no easy meal,” she warned it and drew her sword. There was more noise behind her. She didn’t have to look to know she was dealing with a pair of them. Maybe she was going to make an easy meal for them. She thought about yelling for help, but it was unlikely anyone would hear her. Dammit! There was a reason they were supposed to travel in pairs. With sword at ready she turned so she could see both of the sea dragons.

The Red Spear was expecting the larger of the two to attack first, but something suddenly distracted him and he turned away with a sharp boiling hiss. The second dragon lunged past her, moving like a seal or great walrus. It took the Red Spear a second to realize she had help. Armed with this knowledge she attacked the smaller dragon.`

This brought everyone else on the run. The larger sea dragon lurched back towards the water, it’s huge body bearing the scars of its encounter with the Red Spear’s rescuer. Only now did she see that the Monk had been the one to come to her immediate aid. The smaller dragon followed the first, but it was not over. Something was roiling the water in a froth.

Arthur who was now at her side stared in horror as something slowly emerged from the water. He did not notice that the Monk was placing himself between whatever was coming and them. Some of the men ran back up the beach where the women and children waited.

The Red Spear knew the moment the head emerged who was paying them a visit. “Domnu,” she murmured in awe and fear. The church might wipe out the land fey, but the goddess of chaos was safe from their reach. With the horns emerging from her tangled blue hair, she rose sitting on the back of a giant turtle, the great world turtle who in legend carried the world upon his back. 

She looked at the assembly with tortoise shell eyes and asked, “Why does the god of the otherworld bother my seas?”

Arthur and the Red Spear moved to stand beside the Monk. One of the animal fey joined them and said, “She is queen of the deep seas and chaos.”

This was a first for Arthur, but he nodded his head quickly. “My lady,” he began, unsure of how to address a being like her, “we are uncertain as to why the King of the Otherworld has taken an interest in us. We sought to leave, but that is not his desires.” 

“A king without worshipers is no king,” she answered as great and mighty sea creatures appeared around her. The Red Spear had never seen such life. There were even animals that existed in the nightmares of every sailor alive. She could not help herself, she spared a look for the Monk. What she would give to know what he was thinking right now.

“My dragons were hungry and attacked, but I would have you heal them,” the Queen of the Deep Sea and Chaos spoke up, the words directed towards the Monk. 

“I am not a healer,” he replied evenly.

“Put your hand in the water,” the goddess stated, more command then request.

“I have no connection with water,” the Monk replied again but dropped to one knee to place his right hand in the water.

“But I do,” the goddess answered.  
The Red Spear watched as the water started glowing, running to his fingertips and those sea glass pale eyes gleamed with the power of the goddess.

“She’s taking life from him,” Red Spear realized and rushed to break the connection. But Domnu had what she wanted and released her hold on his body. He sank back half in and half out of the water his head rolling back on the Red Spear’s shoulder. His parted lips were white beneath the moonlight.

One of the beast men took him from her and held him in his arms. The Red Spear reached for the Monk’s hand and felt the slight pulse in his wrist. “Hurry. Get him to our healer.” 

Arthur laid a gentle hand on her back and asked, “What happened?” 

Squirrel met them half way, his eyes widening in horror. Instead of staying with the men he ran back to Pym. “I need a bowl,” he said urgently. Such an odd request, but she dug one out of her bad and gave it to him. He ran into the forest. The Red Spear ran after him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded anxiously.

“Getting wet dirt,” the boy answered without explaining and filled the bowl. Just as quickly he scampered back to Pym. The Red Spear arrived two steps behind him and watched as the boy put the Monk’s hand in the dirt. There was a faint greening of his hand, marking him as a fey but it was not enough to do anything. He was dying. 

“What does the dirt do?” she asked sharply.

“It heal him,” Pym answers, imaging they would never get enough good dirt to save him.

Looking up at one her men, she ordered, “The hogs head. Fill it full and be quick!” To Pym, she said, “Do what you have to keep him alive.”

Arthur, crouched beside the still monk, looked up at Guinevere and asked, “How did this happen?”

“Carelessness on my part, a pair of sea dragons, and an ancient goddess.”

“I saw the goddess, but missed the other parts. I would like to hear it.”

The Red Spear told him about taking the walking and getting blocked off by the dragons, and how the Monk took on the larger one freeing her to attack the smaller one.

When the barrel was brought back, Pym decided it would be more helpful if they could cover more skin with the damp dirt. The Red Spear went to work helping her expose his skin by cutting open his tunic. There was little time to be messing with getting it over his head and such. Such fine skin, cold to the touch. Even Arthur dug into the dirt and helped spread if over this skin. They quickly had him covered in the rich soil. Neither Pym nor Squirrel seemed surprised by the way his body soaked in the life and left behind ash. When he opened his eyes and took a deep breath, the boy was elated and Pym smiled. Arthur and the Red Spear could not contain their surprise.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asked as he swept away the ash with his hand.

The Monk looked surprised when he sat up. “I’m fine, I think. What happened?”

“Domnu took your life force and gave it to the dragons,” Red Spear answered.

“Remind me not to do that again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Spear decides she wants a piece of that.....

Aft of the helm Pym sat cross- legged on the deck sewing up the Monk’s cut tunic. The Monk, lost in the sleep of the dead lay beside her, half on his back half on his side. The Red Spear would have thought the sea spray cold on his bare skin, but nothing could wake him. What a difference a dozen hours made. If they had been inclined to kill him, last night would have been the best time to do it, but no had had the heart to claim his life. Not now. And with a kinder heart the Red Spear found herself regretting her earlier actions all the while fantasizing about that kiss. An ordinary man would be easy to seduce, but this man was not ordinary. Nor did he stir from that spot even after Pym laid the mended tunic over him and got up. 

“I guess having the life sucked out of you is tiresome,” Pym remarked thoughtfully to the Red Spear. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t like it. 

“When we put in to shore, make sure you wake him,” the Red Spear said. “I don’t want him waking up and falling overboard.”

Pym smiled. “That would be a rude awakening.” 

“Indeed it would,” the Red Spear agreed and motioned for one of her men to take over the helm. She needed to speak with Arthur. Catching his attention, she called him to the starboard rail. “I don’t see us becoming romantically involved,” she said while staring out to sea.

“Pardon?” Arthur responded, confused by the comment.

“I understand I am a beautiful woman, but it wouldn’t work,” she continued. “Besides, I heard you already have a lady.”

Stunned was an understatement. “I did not mean to give you the wrong impression of me,” Arthur replied as sanely as he could.

“Good. Then that will place no hard feelings between us?”

Arthur laid his hand upon his breast, and said, “By my name, there will be no hard feelings between us.” Thinking he might know the source of this declaration, he asked, “Is there a better man than me in your heart?”

“No, but I feel I owe the monk a debt of gratitude for saving me….”

“Of course.”

“And I do not want to be worrying about our friendship.”

“It’s safe,” Arthur assured her. He glanced back at the sleeping fey and smiled. Old Lancelot had no idea what was waiting for him. “Are you sure he’s right for you?”

“For one night every man is right for me,” the Red Spear answered with a wicked laugh.

“Then there is nothing more to say,” Arthur replied. “I am not without some envy, but I must be true to my lady.” 

When the ships put in ashore, Pym and Squirrel made sure the Monk was awake and wearing his mended tunic. He was still groggy but they got him on the beach without any missteps. Food and water followed along with a little wine. He was still groggy but managed to stay awake and listen to some women singing an old fey song that he vaguely remembered from another time.

And the longer he was awake, the more awake he became. Eventually it became necessary for him to take a walk. Squirrel went with him. 

Arthur couldn’t help himself. He watched the Red Spear with renewed interest while eating a green apple. Would she make her move now or wait for him to recover? “I think she’ll be bedding him before morning,” one of her crewmen told Arthur who inclined his head in agreement. “Oh aye, he hasn’t a chance.”

After a few minutes Squirrel ran back to one fires where a Minotaur was telling stories. The Red Spear got up from her fire and went to look for the Monk. “She’s making her move,” the crewman warned with a big grin. “This might take awhile.” 

Arthur grinned and continued eating his apple/

The Red Spear moved stealthily through the trees and brush, keeping her eyes and ears alert for whatever was out there. As keen as his senses were, he probably already knew she was here. “I was hoping we could talk,” she spoke up, 

“About what?” he asked and turned towards her. Waist deep in water, the setting sun blazing behind him, the Monk was all that was beautiful about young males in their prime. 

The Red Spear approached the water and took seat on a rock. He would not be able to leave the water without her getting a good look at him. “I owe you a debt for saving me yesterday eve.”

“It will be paid in time,” he answered with a smile. How could he not know her intentions?

“I choose to pay it back now,” the Red Spear answered and stood up. She unbuckled her belt and set it on the rock. The tunic came off next. “Did they ever let you live like a man or were you Cardin’s hound?” His eyes were focused on her bare breasts. “Like them?”

“They are…very nice.”  
“Good instincts,” the Red Spear said and skinned off the rest of her clothes. Entering the water with him, she found it a wee bit cold for her liking. “This won’t do,” she decided aloud. “Making love should be comfortable, not traumatizing.”

“Is that what we are going to do?” he asked curiously as if unsure about her intentions. That or he was still groggy.

The Red Spear stopped a moment and stared at him. Such a lovely male, tall with sleek skin, a swollen throat…and as dense as a brick. “The shore is much warmer and easier on our butts.” She held her hand out to him and was a little surprised when he took it. She had him sit on a smooth rock and then straddled him with her arms around his neck. This was obviously new to him. “Do not expect other women to be as knowledgeable or as quick to admit they desire you.”

“Pity,” he murmured.

“It’s the way of women,” she said and nibbled on the side of his neck. “Do to a woman what I am doing to you and she will accept you as a great lover.” She took a harder bite out of his shoulder where the neck joined the body. Very sensitive. She smiled at the little whimper that escaped his throat. “But you must control yourself,” she whispered against his hot skin. “You must let her get her pleasure first.”

His instincts were very good; he nibbled on her ear, but there was still a lethargy about him that annoyed her. Still there was vigor in that most male part of him, and she claimed it as smoothly as mounting a stallion. A hot virile stallion. Slow fucking him, making sure she got her pleasure first, she marveled at the pale light in his eyes. Was that her imagination? Soft kisses evolved into hungry and demanding. Grinding against him, she felt herself slip the confines of skin and bone and merge with this beautiful fey male. He held her tight to him and then surrendered to the need as well. For several heart beats heat and fire danced on his fingertips. She imagined he was filling her with liquid fire.

And he abruptly collapsed. She’d kill him! No? No, wait, he was not dead. “I don’t believe this,” she growled and climbed off him. A closer look at his face and she was certain he had passed out. First things first, she need to get herself dressed. Then she needed to wake him up and get him dressed. She couldn’t wake him. Dammit, now she was going to need help moving him. Although it was a struggle she needed to get him dressed as well. Well, all right, just the pants then.

Grabbing his arm, she pulled on him and said, “At least sit the fuck up.” He stirred, that was good! “Come on, I can’t leave you here alone. Something might come along and eat you.” Grabbing up his clothes and boots with one hand and tucking them under her arm, she helped him stand. “Try not to lean on me.”

Arthur and the raider were playing a game with their daggers when they heard the Red Spear call for Arthur. They both trotted towards her voice and saw the source of her discomfort barely walking. 

Arthur was grateful it was dark now. “She’s fucked him to death,” the raider remarked in awe. He almost broke at that but managed to keep his composure a little while longer.

“I did not!” she snapped back. “He’s very much alive.” 

“Let’s take him back to his camp,” Arthur suggested and got under the Monk’s right arm while the raider situated himself under the left. The Monk as dead weight was a heavy boy. The Red Spear followed with his clothing and boots. 

Squirrel saw them and came running. “What happened to him? What did you do?”

Arthur resisted the urge to tell the boy the truth and replied instead, “He’s just very very tired.” He and the raider laid the Monk on his cloak. “He wants to sleep.”

“Nah, he’s not dead,” the raider added, “but if he were, he’s smiling.”

Arthur got up because he did not want to laugh in front of the worried boy. “He’s fine, Squirrel. Just let him sleep.” A few feet later and he and the raider were laughing their butts off. The Red Spear did not find their hysterics amusing and stormed off.

“You know,” the raider spoke up, “that’s how I want to die.”

“Me too,” Arthur admitted.

The next day at sea the Monk slept aft of the helm, sometimes with Pym or Squirrel sitting with him. “I thought fey were made of sterner stuff,” Red Spear growled softly when Arthur stopped by the helm to visit.

Arthur smiled. “Just goes to show we mortals have some advantages over them.”

“Only if it works all the time,” Red Spear replied, her curiosity kicking into high gear. “I may need to try him one more time to be certain.”

“Would you like Ironfist and me to be on standby in case you need us to carry him again?”

She looked up at him without amusement in her eyes. “I know you are making fun of me,” she said with a slight warning in her voice, “but the sooner he becomes like everyone else, the sooner he becomes like everyone else. Have you ever heard the story about Enkidu? An old wise woman told it to me when I was a girl.”

“No. I’ve not heard that one.”  
“In a far away land a wild man lived among the animals. The king sent a woman to a water hole and she made him human. Took her seven days.”

“You think you’ll need seven days?”

“No, but you can tell a lot about a man during sex. After all that he’s done, if he starts shutting down, he will be more dangerous than ever. I’ve seen it, men who can’t let their darkness go end up killing everything they love and then themselves.” 

“I see your logic,” Arthur admitted. “Still the offer stands if you need us.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

That evening the Red Spear left her project alone. Now, if he approached her she would most certainly reciprocate, but she did not want him passing out on her again. If he needed rest, then rest he would get. Naturally he was more alert tonight and finding companionship with Arthur and Ironfist. Laughing over something funny no doubt, something about her; she decided she would gut them all in their sleep. Tonight she would sleep in her cabin. They could all go drown in the sea.

Sleep was not coming. Perhaps she ought to just go gut them now. Sitting up her arms draped over her knees, she knew why she wasn’t sleeping. Him. She wanted him…again. He was like a drug for her body and mind. And she didn’t even like the bastard all that much. It was just…she stopped and raised her head. Someone was behind her door. Grabbing her sword, refusing to be intimidated on his own ship, she rushed the door and yanked it open with her sword ready to gut whoever was out there. The moment she looked up, she froze.

“I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” the Monk stated.

“Apology accepted,” the Red Spear said and lowered the sword. After a moment of just staring at him, he turned away from her. “Wait, is that all you wanted?” she asked.   
He turned back, a faint smile on his handsome lips. 

“Is this the right way to do it?” he asked and lowered his head to place a very light but sensuous kiss upon her lips stealing the very breath from her body. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she dragged him back into her cabin and closed the door behind them.

Almost reluctantly pulling back from his mouth, she replied, “You need practice.” Was there ever a look on a man’s face that did not automatically damn a woman’s soul to hell…but in a good way? Could the serpent in the garden have been fey? The Red Spear didn’t care. Soon they were both on her bunk skin to skin, he on top. “You’re too heavy,” she purred throatily. And they changed places.

“Now I am in control for both of us,” she explained and grabbed his biceps, pinning them flat as she leaned over and kissed him. She had not yet mounted him, but she could feel him hard between her thighs. 

“What if I want to be in control?” he asked but made no effort to free his arms.

“Then you need to find a woman less like me,” the Red Spear replied with a grin and slid herself along his shaft every nerve in her body tingling with erotic heat. His expression seemed to indicate he understood. And she sat up straighter and smiled. So much power beneath her finger tips. So much strength and passion, just bottled up beneath a fine layer of skin. She released his arms and ran her hands and nails lightly over his shoulders and across his sharply defined pectorals. With his hands free, he grabbed her breasts but held them carefully in his hands. 

“I like them,” he purred.. 

Red Spear didn’t say what she was thinking, but it was evident to her that forcing celibacy on him was probably what drove him crazy. Bending over she found his lips again, and this time she didn’t come up for air for quite some time. She even grinned against his mouth when he tried to slide into her. “So eager,” she remarked and bit down lightly on his chin. Reaching between their bodies, she held him in her hand, and his expression turned to awe and blind lust. This was so wicked. She mounted him. “Remember what I said. Let the woman get her pleasure first.”

“Then the woman needs to stop wasting time,” he countered breathlessly. 

“You need to develop some stamina,” she teased. “And don’t you use any fey magic on me this time.”

“I didn’t know I could do that,” he replied breathlessly. 

She decided it was time to use this lovely creature for what he was designed for. She used him hard, taking everything she wanted from him. He may not have been using his magic, but he was magic. When she could take no more, she sighed, “Your turn.”

What she did not realize was just how frustrated he was at her slow grinding pace. He flipped her over, ass in the air, and buried himself back inside of her. When he slammed back into her, she felt it all the way to her navel. Nothing quite like a good pounding. And when he collapsed across her back, she whimpered and asked, “You’re not going to sleep are you?”

“No. Just catching my breath,” he replied and righted himself. Withdrawing from her he took a moment to do the most male thing his or any other species of male could do, he smiled contentedly. 

“There’s no room for both of us to sleep here,” she said and stretched out on her belly.  
He stood up and reached for his clothes and boots. He was dressed in short order. Leaving her contented in her bunk, he went topside and down the gangplank where Arthur and Ironfist waited.

“Problems?” he stopped and asked them.

“We just wanted to make sure the captain didn’t need any help moving you,” Ironfirst replied with a shit-eating grin. The Monk turned back to Arthur who only shrugged. Was this the way men in the real world acted? The Monk wasn’t sure about that, but he was tired and able to move his own two legs. He made it back to his makeshift bed near Pym and Squirrel.

The next day they returned to the lands of Uther, and no one was surprised when the Red Spear and Uther Pendragon became fascinated with each other at first sight. It was the perfect match: she was used to giving orders and he was used to taking them. Arthur, Ironfist, and the Monk watched her become Uther’s person guest. 

“At least we won’t be sailing around lost,” Ironfist remarked with a tired expression on his face.

“But think of our friend here,” Arthur teased.

“I will live, I assure you,” the Monk retorted and followed Arthur back down the path to the ships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much for serious erotica.


End file.
